Faceless
by MaddAlice
Summary: AU: Riddick's dead. Or at least that's what everyone else is supposed to think. It's a race against time, when some Mercs decide Fry's just the sort of bait they need to get Riddick out of hiding. The only problem is- - she doesn't remember him. R/F
1. Chapter 1: The World As Jack Sees It

_**A/N: **__Okay, just a little heads up for everyone: I am so sorry that this is not a true update, but I was re-reading this story and was absolutely appalled by all of my spelling mistakes and weird sentence structures. I've re-edited the chapters I've written so far and added a few more scenes here and there, nothing drastic so don't worry. I just felt that it could use some more love. Anyway dearies, thanks for all of the reviews and I hope you enjoy the story!_

**Author Note:** I love the movie _Pitch Black_, watch it whenever I get the chance, but the ending always pisses me off. So I did what any other self-respecting writer would do: I created a FanFic. Hope you like it, and please be nice, this is my first fic. Reviews are always welcome!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything Riddick-related. If I did, I wouldn't have killed off Carolyn...obviously, right?

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><p>Chapter One:<p>

"Imam, she's losing a lot of blood!"

Jack pressed the cloth harder against the puncture wound in Fry's back. There had been other scrapes and cuts, but there were some bloody gashes now adorning her back, such as a grouping of three and a fourth one not too far away, along her hip towards her spine, and another group of three on her left shoulder with a puncture on the muscle between her shoulder and neck. The beast had literally had her in its claws. Thankfully none of these had been very deep and thus required less attention. Riddick was at the control's maneuvering the skiff into the Sol-Track shipping lanes, while Imam was with her in the back, attending to their fallen captain.

At one point, back on that hellish planet, Fry had begun heading back towards the skiff, finally listening to Imam's desperate plea. But the moment she heard Riddick yelling in pain, she ran off to find him. Imam had needed to hold Jack back, just to keep her from following the woman into the rain to rescue the convict. Fry had left Imam and Jack alone on that skiff, without a pilot, and no hope that their captain and their savior were going to make it back alright.

It had seemed like forever before Jack and Imam saw Riddick limping back towards them, covered in blood and carrying an unconscious Fry. Imam had rushed out to him as soon as his eyes had fallen on Riddick, quickly taking the woman out of the convict's arms and rushing her back to the safety of the light saturated skiff. Jack followed Imam soon after that, but first she'd needed to check on Riddick. He was upset, which was a given considering the state that their captain was currently in, but there was just something more to his expression. His brow was furrowed, and his shined eyes seemed far off and distant. For a second—a very split second that seemed more imagination than anything Jack had seen herself—the indomitable convict looked afraid. He was even muttering something under his breath, which didn't make any sense to Jack. And then all emotion was stripped from his face, his brow undisturbed and his eyes empty of everything but their unnatural shine. Riddick had grabbed her by the back of her shirt and shoved her towards the inside of the skiff.

The first thing that Jack sees as she enters is all of the blood. It seemed like there was a river of red making its way toward her and out of the skiff. Behind her, she noticed that Riddick had paused. Then with more force than he had before, he'd shoved Jack towards one of the seats along the hull of the ship, and quickly made his way around her and to the pilot's seat. Imam was across from her, at what looked like a collapsible table that pulled out form the hull just like the rest of the seats. The teacher's hands were busy as they secured Fry to the ship to withstand the pressure from take-off. Riddick's hands were just as busy at the controls and Jack watched as the skiff's doors closed with a resolute slam and hissed as the air-tight seal was employed.

Suddenly all of the lights switched off within the skiff, followed closely by the engine and terror overwhelmed the girl. She watched as Imam, who was strapped into his own seat and hands pressed to the captain's side to stem the flow of blood, slowly looked up at her with the same fear echoed in his eyes.

But in the end, their fear was unwarranted.

Riddick.

He just had to scare the fuck out of everybody, so he could blow off some steam and kill as many of those monsters as he could during takeoff.

How typical.

All levity was pushed aside once they'd broken atmosphere, and Imam swiftly unstrapped himself to attend Fry, employing Jack to help staunch the wound as he looked for something to help the wounded woman.

It was frightening to see how much blood was pouring out of Fry, and Jack called to the Holy Man in abject fear for her captain's life.

Imam was making some sort of noise behind her. It sounded as if he was shifting through compartments in the hull, but there was no way Jack could see for sure, without inadvertently lightening the pressure on the gaping hole in Fry's back. He'd finally found whatever it was that he was looking for, because in the next moment he was at her side, a heavy-looking gray box in his hands.

"What's that?" She asked as the blood from Fry's wound began to soak through the makeshift bandage, even more. Imam didn't answer for a moment as he turned on a light above the makeshift examination table.

"This, my friend," Imam told her almost distractedly as he opened the foreboding box, "Is a med-kit. It's old, but it should do the job just fine." He sat the opened box down on the table, beside the prone Fry. Fry had been laid face down on the table, to order to get at all her wounds. But having her like this made Jack incredibly uncomfortable, and judging from Imam's expression, it made his just as uncomfortable as her. This allowed for the ugly, ragged puncture wound on her left side, to be easily accessible to the makeshift medics. Imam pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, carefully moving Jack's hands out of the way and set to work.

Imam began cleaning and trimming the ragged wound, hyper-aware of every move he made. Jack continued to pace behind him, only truly able to offer any help when he needed her to get something from the med-kit or required an extra set of hands. It seemed an eternity before Imam finished stitching the wound and covered it with a bandage from the kit. He even stitched up and bandaged the four lesser gashes on her shoulder and hip. While there was still blood covering her back, Jack was relieved that Fry's wounds were no longer gushing the same quantities of blood and that the woman wasn't in danger of dying at any given moment.

Now it was on to the harder task, Imam insisted, of convincing Riddick to get his wounds tended. Thankfully, Imam was the one to volunteer for _that_ particular task. With the opened kit in hand, the man in question had approached the head of the small skiff as one might a feral animal—which in a way the man was.

"Riddick, we must also stitch up your wounds, now that Carolyn is out of danger," Riddick acted as if the Holy Man hadn't even spoken, though she may have imagined the slight twitch in the muscle of the convict's jaw at the mention of Fry's name. Riddick seemed to be focused on one thing and one thing only: finding someone to pick them up or they were all goners out in the vastness of space. Or at least that was what Jack thought, she never could figure out what was going on in the older man's head.

"Riddick-"

"I can take care of myself, Imam." Riddick's voice was strained with something Jack couldn't quite make out. His grip tightened on the controls. It was almost palpable; the unsaid words that he didn't take care of himself before and if it hadn't been for Fry, Riddick would be a goner by now. With the growing tension (coming primarily from Riddick's general direction,) Jack decided to try and at change the subject. She crawled her way up to the co-pilot's chair, lazily throwing her arms around the top half of the chair and faced Riddick.

"They'll have a lot of questions, whoever we run into. Could even be a merc ship." Well, this probably wasn't such a great conversational starter to try and calm him down, but it was still something they needed to think about. And plan for. "So what the hell do we tell them about you?"

"We'll tell 'em Riddick's dead, he died somewhere on that planet." He didn't look back towards either one of them when he'd said it, instead focusing on the stars ahead of him. Jack turned her attention back towards Imam, whose eyes were focused on Riddick's back. She saw the Holy man's face filled with what appeared to be pity and disappointment. Imam sighed, closing the lid to the kit, and sitting in the co-pilot's chair, that Jack quickly moved away from to accommodate her friend.

"With so much prayer to make up for, I scarcely know where to begin," Imam said to her with a broken look in his eyes and a dejected smile. He unfastened his string of prayer beads from around his wrist and sat there for a sad moment contemplating the task before him.

"I know where I'd start," Jack replied quietly, but in the silence of the skiff it seemed to echo around the cabin. She cast one last look in Riddick's direction before she headed back to sit with their wounded companion.

It was mostly silence after that. Jack continued to make sure that Fry was still breathing and continuously checking to see that her wounds hadn't opened up, just like Imam had told her to. Up front, the two older men sat almost as still as statues. Riddick, who only moved when he needed to adjust something on the controls, and Imam, shifting his attention from prayer bead to prayer bead.

After all the adrenaline, which had been pumping through her body since the crash, began to dissipate, Jack found that she was becoming more and more sleepy. Eventually, despite her important job of taking care of Fry, Jack could stand the call no longer and was soon sound asleep on the skiff floor, her head lying against Fry's uninjured shoulder.

It was not a peaceful sleep, nor quite as definite as a nightmare, but was unpleasant nonetheless. She was back in the cave, watching as Riddick rolled the stone in place and caged the three survivors in their rock tomb. Their flame had long ago run out, and unlike what really happened they did not find any bioluminescent bugs to light their way. They were alone; safe, but forgotten. And that's when the frightening truth occurred to her and the terror and heartache became suffocating.

He'd abandoned them.

Jack awoke with a start and found that the skiff had just finished docking with a Cargo ship, much like the _Hunter-Gratzner._

While she had been out cold, the Cargo ship had picked the survivors up out of the Sol-tracks. Lucky for them, the ship was heading towards New Mecca. The two men had informed their rescuers (at least those of them that had been awakened from sleep) of their ship's passing through the tail of a stray comet and the crashing of the _Hunter-Gratzner_ onto that hellhole of a planet. They told the crew of the monsters there and explained how those creatures were the ones who tore Fry's back to pieces. It was the edited version of course (no one needed to know about all the other drama that happened).

They told the crew how Richard B. Riddick died saving their asses.

She, Imam, and Riddick (who was going by the name Johns for now, which she wasn't too happy about) were all instructed to go get into some spare cryo-sleep chambers, while the crew took the still unconscious Fry to the infirmary. Jack wasn't too thrilled about that cryo-sleep order and her last experience with the space equipment. Jack could tell instantly that Imam was just as upset to have to go back into cryo-sleep. And Riddick was just plain pissed altogether.

It didn't matter how they felt though, New Mecca was still roughly 22 weeks out. Jack would be lying if she said she wasn't scared shitless to have to get back into one of those cryo-sleep chambers. What if something happened to this ship like what happened to the _Hunter-Gratzner_?

That was the thing about space travel: there was no guarantee. But as she watched the volatile Riddick and the peaceful Imam climb into cryo-chambers of their own, Jack knew she had to do it. Besides, after all that they had been through together, there was no way she would want to show weakness in front of these guys.

...Well at the very least, not in front of Riddick.

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><p>The next thing Jack was conscious of, was waking up out of cryo and being bombarded with the sounds of people unloading the ship.. They hadn't crashed! For a terrifying moment, Jack thought history has repeated itself. Jack offered up a silent thanks to whoever was up there watching out for them. They'd been through hell once; they didn't need to see it again anytime soon.<p>

The cargo ship that they'd been on was aptly named the _Titan_. When Jack was finally able to see the thing from the outside, all she could do was gawk. The thing was twice the size of the _Hunter-Gratzner_, and apparently it had twice the _Hunter's_ luck. In addition to the_ Titan's_ own cargo, the crew unloaded the survivor's skiff, even though it was pretty much a pointless piece of crap now.

Imam had gone to find a place for all of them to stay, while Jack and Riddick (who'd managed to swipe a pair of goggles from somewhere aboard the _Titan_) stayed with the skiff at the docks, as well as the still unconscious Fry. She looked healthier than she had before the _Titan's_ medical staff had a look at her, which was a relief to Jack. Fry felt like an older sister to her and had it not been for the blonde woman in front of her, Jack knew she'd have been long dead. It didn't matter what she'd said when Fry and Riddick had come back for her and Imam. She knew that Riddick was fully prepared to leave without them. Fry had done something to the cold convict to make him go back out into the rain and monsters for them and for that Jack would be forever indebted to her captain.

While they waited for Imam's return, Jack's thoughts turned to more pressing matters, and from the tightening of his jaw, Jack could tell Riddick's had as well. It had been 22 weeks. Twenty-two weeks and Fry was _still_ unconscious. Sure, she'd been in cryo-stasis, but the point remained. The guys in the infirmary had said that physically she was fine (with the exception of the wounds,) but for whatever reason she just wouldn't wake up and that all we could do was wait for her to awaken naturally.

Jack thought about asking Riddick what had happened out in the darkness and rain, but decided against it. When he'd gotten onto that ship his expression had been completely blank, as if he were far away. He'd been muttering something along the lines of, "Not for me," whatever the hell that meant. He'd kept even more to himself than he had before, if that was possible.

A few hours later, Imam came back with some papers, from the New Meccan officials. One of the papers stated that the four of them were to be given a place where they could stay, temporarily, until they went through the proper channels to find themselves decent housing. _A bunch a bureaucrats, if you ask me_, Jack thought sullenly. It didn't matter though, because they were all together. She'd run away from her last family, and through a twisted turn of events, she'd found a new one. Albeit, an odd one, but what family wasn't?

Apparently, another one of those papers was a map to their new (temporary) home. The three of them had left the docks and traveled in the direction indicated on the map. While Jack and Imam had to, at times, fight their way through crowds, Riddick merely walked and the people parted like the Red Sea Imam had told her about. It could have also been the fact that Riddick was also carrying an unconscious woman in his arms, but Jack knew what no one else wanted to admit. There was just something innate about Riddick that made others stare in fear and awe.

The immediate area around the place was actually livable, something that Jack hadn't really expected, but was thankful for nonetheless. But she still had an image to maintain. So, once they were inside the small apartment they were to share, instead of saying how she really felt, she said what they'd expect her to say.

"This place is a shithole," she told the two men.

Imam gave her a disapproving look while shaking his head from side to side. Riddick didn't even blink at her. In fact he hadn't even looked in her direction. Instead, he walked over to a couch/bed/thing (the place was furnished with the barest of necessities) and laid Fry down upon the dull yellow monstrosity. After she was settled, he stood there for a moment longer, just staring at her. Jack felt a sudden pang in her heart that reminded her strangely of her dream aboard the skiff. Eventually, though, Riddick left Fry's side and came back over to the other survivors, a solemn look on his face.

"Look, ya'll got a place to stay now, and I'm happy for you." Riddick had his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Imam and Jack, or at least she assumed he was staring at her from behind those tinted lenses based the fact that the hair on the back of her neck was standing up. "But you don't need me around here, to fuck everything up, so I'm gonna go enjoy my new found freedom and all that that entails." A sardonic smile flashed across his face, but unlike the other ones she'd seen, this one seemed to be forced.

"You're leaving us?" Jack asked him. All previous badass bravado gone and she was again the helpless little twelve year old girl. "But you can't, we're a family now..." She let the rest of that sentence drift off as she remembered the reason she'd been on the _Hunter-Gratzner_ in the first place.

"Look kid, I'm not part of your little psycho fuck family. And besides," he said with a far more vicious grin, "Didn't you skip out on your last one?"

Jack could feel as tears began to well up in her eyes. It wasn't because of what he said—although she'll be the first to admit that it was a contributing factor—but because he was leaving. On that barren planet, Riddick had been someone they could depend on to watch out for them. As long as he was around, no one could hurt them. And now, he was leaving...

Her dream once again flashed through her mind's eye.

"What about Carolyn?" Imam asked the other man, pulling Jack away from her melancholy musings. Riddick's jaw flexed for a second, and then he was still, contemplative almost. Jack had almost forgotten! Quickly she wiped the tears from her eyes, with her already torn and dirty sleeve.

"That's right!" She interjected with a little more enthusiasm than appropriate given the subject matter, "You can't leave until Fry wakes up!" She sounded like a petulant child, even to her own ears, but she didn't care. Whatever works, right?

"This would also give you adequate time to prepare for your journey. Otherwise, people might find it suspicious, you leaving so quickly after arriving. And not to mention, with Carolyn in her current state..." He trailed off. It was obvious that he didn't need to say anything more; he'd gotten the reaction that he'd wanted. Riddick's stance relaxed, fractionally, but it'd relaxed nonetheless; a sure sign of defeat. Jack felt a grin of her own blossom on her face.

"Fine, I stay for a month. After that, even if she ain't woken up, I'm gone." Riddick left no more room for argument, and then promptly left the room, burrowing deeper into their temporary new home.

They'd eventually gotten a new and improved living space. And when Fry still hadn't woken up, Imam had set up a room specifically for her, to watch over her vitals and give their captain the proper care she deserved.

True to his word, Riddick left exactly a month later. Fry hadn't woken up yet and even though he'd deny it (and then probably stab you), Jack could tell that Riddick was torn between leaving and staying in order to be there for her. Because he may never admit it, but they were family and families look out for one another, at least that's what she's always heard.

If only he had stayed too. It was only four days after that Fry finally woke up from her coma.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Well, this is the beginning so far, and no the whole thing will not be from just Jack's perspective, it will shift depending on who is the best to tell that portion.

The **review button**, she calls to you...obey the call and **review**...pretty please?


	2. Chapter 2: A New View

_**A/N: **__Here's the next reedited chapter, guys._

**Author's Note:** I'm going to try and update as soon as I finish a chapter, but at the very least, once every two weeks. And sorry about the long wait, my cousin's wedding was this past weekend so things have been a little hectic, not to mention college exams. This chapter's a little on the slow side, so bear with me, it is a necessary evil. Please remember to review if you like it, and even if you don't like it; constructive-criticism is always welcome!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Pitch Black_ or anything else related to Riddick. Are you happy now? I've made myself sad…

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><p>Chapter Two:<p>

It had been two years.

Two years since the planets moved as one, to block out the three suns that shone constantly on that desert planet. The survivors of the cargo-ship crash had all managed to escape the horrors that had risen up out of the ground and thrived in the darkness, and in doing so began a new life on New Mecca.

It had been touch and go there for a while after Carolyn had first woken up from her coma. The headaches and the physical therapy had been painful and arduous, to say the least. The three survivors settled into their new lives fairly well, given the circumstances of their arrival in the Holy city. They'd decided to live together during that first year, in order to watch out for one another as they adjusted to their new home. Eventually, though, things changed as they always do.

Imam, it turns out, was a Professor of Theology, and as such taught at the University of New Mecca. Eventually, Carolyn had decided that the man deserved some time away from the two women and decided that she and Jack should get a place of their own. It sudden decision to leave may or may not have had something to do with the fact that he'd met someone there on New Mecca, a woman by the name of Lajjun. It was soon after that initial meeting the two of them were married. She and Jack had been right up front watching the wedding procession. It really had been quite a beautiful ceremony, full of color and life. Far from anything that had been on that nightmarish planet. Imam and Lajjun even had a kid now, just a little thing and barely a year old, a little girl named Ziza. Jack could often be found at the Holy man's home, entertaining the little girl.

Jack, now there was a story.

The little girl had grown over the two years. It had taken some effort on Carolyn's part, but she'd finally, convinced Jack to embrace her own femininity. Or at the very least, the girl hasn't shaved her head and gone around letting people think she is a boy. Well, not that Carolyn knows of. That about the only thing feminine about Jack, though. Other than the hair, the kid hasn't changed at all. She's still got a foul mouth and a penchant for trouble. Over the years, Carolyn had gone from captain to guardian for the young woman.

Carolyn had never really thought about having kids someday. Piloting had been her real passion and her biological clock had yet to ever start its chiming. With Jack though, it was so natural for her, as if she'd always been in the girl's life. She would die to keep the kid safe, a notion that frightened her more often than naught.

As for her own story, Carolyn had gone back to piloting—nothing new on _that_ front—but was adamant that her flights involved nothing that required an extended amount of time in cryo-sleep. She had barely tolerated having to be placed in cryo before the crash of the _Hunter-Gratzner_. Was it any real wonder that she definitely didn't like it after the crash and subsequent misadventure? While there was always the odd flight, typically her jobs stayed on planet, moving cargo from the docks, to their respective destinations and vice versa.

She was a glorified mail carrier, but at least it paid the bills.

It wasn't long after she'd woken from her coma that Carolyn had needed to be informed of a few particular things of note. First was that after they had been rescued, the crew of the_ Titan_ had informed the New Oslo Shipping Corporation, of the destruction of their cargo ship, the _Hunter-Gratzner,_ and the loss of the crew and passengers of said ship. Without properly investigating the planet it had crashed onto, and ignoring the claims of the few remaining survivors, the corporation had sent a recovery team down to the planet—during the eclipse.

Needless to say, they never heard from that team again.

After a failed nuking of the landing area, they decided to send in some Investigative robots, which should have been their first choice, if you asked her. From the recovery of the _Hunter-Gratzner's_ black box, the company was able to clear the crew of any responsibility for the crash. Someone had even deemed to important enough to come and get statements from the group, although she had been awake by the time they got around to questioning the ones with firsthand experience. Sweet bureaucracy, will thy wonders never cease?

_M6-117_, if she recalled correctly, was what the reports, filed by the New Oslo Shipping Corporation, had ended up dubbing their hell away from home.

The second thing that Carolyn had been made aware of, much more quickly than the last, was the multiple scars now adorning her body. She had two sets of four relatively thin incisions. One set was located on her left shoulder going towards her back, and the other along the outside of her right hip. They weren't very deep scars and looked far nicer than you would imagine scars from a mauling would look. They were reminiscent of a slice from a finely sharpened blade, the kind that cuts cleanly rather than shredding the surrounding meat. She'd been told that there were other lesser scrapes and cuts, but all of those had since healed. The last, and most vicious, of her prominent scarring wounds that she had gained from the nightmarish fiends, was a puncture wound to the left of the base of her spine, fourth lumbar down, nearly severing her abdominal aorta.

The words _'sweet spot'_ came to mind, but she couldn't place from where.

And last, but certainly not least in the grand scheme of how fucked up her life had become, Carolyn learned that she couldn't remember most of the events that occurred on that damn planet. Don't get her wrong, she hadn't lucked out or anything like that. She still remembers those photophobic bastards and exactly what they could do, but the some of the events, and the people, were...foggy. She remembers feelings and bits of conversation here and there but it was ephemeral at best.

And no matter how much she tried, she could never seem to find a way to permanently breach that fog. There would be moments, when a memory would surface, but as soon as she would try to concentrate on the forgotten event, it would disappear again. Sometimes, with all that had happened on that planet, this was the welcomed outcome, but other times it just damn annoying. Carolyn had always been a bit of control-freak, an "alpha bitch" the guys at the academy had called her and it _killed_ her to not be in control of something as personal as her own mind. It was almost like playing hide-and-go-seek with her brain; some memories in plain sight, others hidden from view, only burrow themselves deeper into her subconscious.

She had tried to ask Imam and Jack to help her fill in these missing gaps in her memory, but either they were deliberately leaving information out, or the things that she couldn't remember were events that they simply hadn't experienced and had been something uniquely hers. Something that really did bother her—besides the gaps in her memory—was their claim of another survivor from the _Hunter-Gratzner._

They said that his name was Johns, and that he had been the one to pilot the skiff off planet.

At first, Carolyn had taken this new bit of information at face-value. Why would Imam and Jack lie to her, they were practically family after the events of their shared nightmare. Besides, it made sense that there had to have been a fourth survivor on board that skiff. Neither Imam nor Jack could pilot that skiff onto the Sol track shipping lanes in order to be picked up by the _Titan._ She had been wounded and unconscious at the time and couldn't fly them to safety. No, it had sadly taken months for the ache in her head to dissipate enough to fully register what _exactly_ they'd told her.

At first, she'd simply assumed that her memories had been playing tricks on her (there was still so many things she couldn't quite recall), but in the end she realized that it just wasn't the case this time around. The reason why this particular statement on their part just didn't make sense was because Carolyn remembered Johns, the nickel-slick badge wearing, morphine addicted, gutless merc. If he _had _been the fourth member of their merry little band, then they never would have made it off that rock alive. In addition to that, she remembered him dying, of that she was sure. So why would Jack and Imam lie to her? Was it to protect that fourth survivor? The two of them must consider that person worthy of the protection. Whoever that faceless individual was, she figured he deserved his secrecy.

She recalled once, in the early stages of this epiphany, bringing up the topic of this "Johns" as they were calling him. The looks of fear had momentarily etched itself into their respective faces, only to be quickly replaced by caution. They'd been open and receptive enough to all of her questions, but the wariness of the topic never completely left them. The look of relief that had been on their faces, when she didn't challenge their stories, only confirmed that she had made the right choice by not calling them out on their untruth.

"Fry, you delivered those crates yet?" The nasally sound of her higher-ups voice quickly pulled Carolyn out of her thoughts. Unfortunately, it took her a moment too long to reply (for her boss's taste at least), because he called after her again, "Fry!"

"I delivered 'em a half-hour ago!" The crates, to which he was referring, had been a run-of-the-mill domestic delivery to some rather disreputable clients, who dealt in the obscure and semi-illegal, which can loosely be translated as Mercs and others like them. She couldn't really stand that area of town. But work was work, so she just tried to make her trips out there as short as possible.

It wasn't long after that her shift ended, and Carolyn headed home towards the small flat that she shared with Jack. It was a slow easy walk from docks to home. New Mecca was just as the name proclaimed it to be; a haven for weary travelers and all who lived here. The sun—one sun, mind you, not three—was low in the sky by now, coloring the stone pathways in rich warm light. Children laughed as they passed her, answering the beckoning calls of their mothers. People greeted her as she passed, and with some hesitancy she replied back. It was strange for her at times, relearning the new customs of this wondrous city. Carolyn pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders and tucked her satchel closer to her hip as she walked. Things may be peaceful here, but that didn't mean she needed to become complacent in her own safety.

Like all of the other buildings in this area, Carolyn's and Jack's flat, was directly on top of another flat. Each one stacked upon another. The place wasn't nearly as large as the one owned by Imam and his wife, but it was more than spacious enough for Carolyn's tastes. It had two bedrooms, a large living room with a small kitchen-area attached and a balcony overlooking the city. The balcony had become a kind of haven for Carolyn; it was why she'd chosen this particular one, over several other larger places: it made her feel calm, like nothing could touch her as long as she was high above everything else.

Like the surrounding city and streets, the inside of their home was richly decorated in warm colors ranging from golden yellows to deep, dark reds. The fabrics of their home reflected the vast melting pots and religions of the cultures that called New Mecca home. The walls were decorated with rugs and paintings (Jack's doing), the tables were littered with pottery and other miscellaneous things collected over the years (again, Jack), there were even several small plotted plants scattered throughout their apartment (once again because of Jack's instance). Now that she really thought about it, the only thing she really contributed to this place was the coffee table in front of the couch.

Well, that's kinda depressing.

When she walked into the flat, the first thing Carolyn noticed was a note clumsily left on the small side table behind the couch and facing the front door. It was written in Jack's chicken-scratch handwriting, informing Carolyn that she'd run into Imam earlier that day and volunteered to watch Ziza, so that he and his wife could go on a date. Carolyn figured that Jack was telling the truth this time and really was at Imam's, because no matter what, Jack would never involve Imam in one of her lies; she respected him too much—and feared his disappointment more than anything Carolyn could ever dish out.

_'Well, this sucks,' _she thought sourly to herself. She had planned on taking the fourteen-year-old out somewhere, for a girl's night out. Jack had been doing well in school, lately, (it had been an absolute hell those first couple of months) so she'd wanted to surprise her, but she figured it would just have to wait until tomorrow night. Maybe she'd even let Jack choose what they should do.

'_That always leads to an interesting evening,'_ Carolyn couldn't resist reminding herself as a chuckle leaked into the night air, but it quickly faded off as her brow furrowed. The question, now, was; what should she do with the rest of the night?

She headed towards the bathroom, undressing as she went, in order to remove all of the filth from a long day's work. The shower was warm and relaxing, working through the knots and sore muscles that littered her body and helping to relieve the ache of her lower back. That was another thing she had to thank those creatures for, whenever there was a change in pressure that puncture wound by her spine began to ache something awful. She couldn't even enjoy a good thunderstorm anymore.

_Damn beasts._

Imam and Jack never did tell her the particulars of how she'd received her many injuries. Obviously she knew who the culprits were, but the true question remained; how she'd gotten away. From what she could remember, those monsters didn't let go of their meals easily. They'd just told her that _"we"_ got her onto the ship and that everything had happened so fast that they couldn't tell her how they'd gotten her away to the safety of the skiff's lights.

So, she'd been left to wonder, like so many other things, what _the hell_ had happened on that planet.

Her shower turned cold rather quickly, reluctantly forcing her back to the present, and the lingering question of what to do with the rest of her evening? She figured she might as well get caught up on some paperwork, since she had the time.

Oh, joy.

She dressed quickly into her night clothes and wrapped herself into her richly-patterned, warm robe (just another thing that Jack had decreed essential for their new home), and headed into the living room. The balcony doors were opened, so even from the couch she could see the beautiful view of the streets and neighboring buildings of her city. After a time, she set the papers down on the coffee table in front of her (the awesome table that makes all other tables pale in comparison). She'd actually managed to fill out two forms, before her attention was pulled back to the view outside and her eyes grew heavier and heavier.

_I'll just close my eyes for a little while, just to enjoy the stillness,_ she thought to herself.

And it was the last conscious thought she would have that night, because, almost in the next instant, she was asleep.

* * *

><p>The subconscious mind is a wondrous thing. So much information is stored there; a massive library of everything that a person has experienced and thought. Although the conscious mind might sometimes become compromised, the subconscious never forgets. And unlike your conscious self, it will never lie to you.<p>

So as Carolyn Fry lay on that couch, dreaming, her subconscious mind filled in the gaps in her memory; playing out events that her conscious-self had no recollection of, but happened nonetheless. It was in sleep that she was made whole again, if only for a few hours.

It was in one of these, fortuitous moments that Jack found herself, arriving home. Ziza had been a handful, which was not the usual case with the beautiful little girl. Jack was still happy, though, that she could give Imam and Lajjun a few moments to themselves, if just for the night. She felt a smile spread across her face at the thought of her friend's happiness, only for it to quickly disappear.

She wondered if Riddick had found someone, where ever he was. He's told Imam where he might go, but they'd left her out of the loop. They might say it was for her own safety, but the reality was that they didn't trust her not to go running off after the convict. And while she loved being on New Mecca, seeing Imam and his family, and living with Fry, she didn't really trust herself not to go after him, either. What could she say? He was her hero. But even still, it was the principle of the thing. They should've trusted her!

Anyways, she figured he'd probably found multiple "someones" by now, she couldn't help rolling her eyes as that thought crossed her mind, each one, no doubt, different than the last. He wouldn't be Riddick if he wasn't out shoppin' for late night companions. Still the thought made her sad, and that familiar heartache that appeared whenever the thought of the man, made itself known. Jack sighed; sometimes adults were just plain idiots. He'd had it great here, a family and everything, but instead he'd run away. Jack knew a thing or two about running away from family, so she knew enough about the regret that came with the running. She sighed again.

Idiots, the lot of them.

She took the house key off from around her neck and tucked it into a drawer in the kitchen area. The house was dark except for the reading lamp by the couch and the minimal light spilling into the flat from the opened balcony doors and the dying sun.

Sun down still gave Jack the chills and she constantly had to remind herself that the hell that they'd escaped was behind them. They were safe now.

When Jack rounded the couch, she found Fry curled up and fast asleep. It wasn't all that surprising a find, it had become a habit almost. Fry staring out at the stars as if she was waiting for something, but not even knowing that she was waiting for anything.

It was moments like this that really bothered Jack the most. Of all the things that happened on that planet, why did Fry have to forget about Riddick?

Fry had told Imam and Jack how she remembered some things from the time we were there, and then Jack and Imam had had to pieced together what it was that she'd. She remembered the moment when she realized that Fry didn't remember the man who had saved her life, when at the same time she had been trying to save his. It had felt like a giant weight falling into the pit of her stomach, and Jack had to fight to urge to cry.

They had needed to lie to the woman who had saved their lives, by keeping Riddick a secret from her. At that moment, they were thankful that Riddick had left when he did. It wasn't safe for them or Riddick, knowing that he was really alive, and Imam had figured it would be too dangerous adding Fry to the mix. It was obvious, though, that Fry had meant _something_ to Riddick, but did he mean something to her as well? Was that why she'd risked her life to go back and save his?

That question would probably never be answered. For Fry, because of memory loss, and for Riddick, because he'd stab you before he revealed any sort of "weakness". But Jack remembered what the doctors had told her and Imam, two years ago. With head injuries, you can never tell what will happen, or for how long it will last, but in most cases, patients regain their memories. So, he'd told them, there was hope for Fry yet. It was possible for her to remember.

Jack walked across the room and closed the balcony doors, locking them as was her habit. Making a short stop to Fry's room, Jack grabbed a large afghan that Imam's wife had bought, for the captain a month ago. She draped the beautifully decorated cloth over Fry, collecting the scattered sheets of papers strewn across the coffee table as well.

Jack really hated that table. She would never tell Fry that though, but she secretly wanted an accident to befall the poor excuse for a coffee table. Where the rest of the house was delicate, warm and inviting in appearance, this monstrosity of a table was robust, foreboding and seemed to ward off guests. Ziza wouldn't go near the thing when she visited.

Fry had insisted though, saying that the table was dependable and despite its appearance it would be there for us when we needed it most. Jack had a feeling sometimes, that Fry wasn't actually talking about the coffee table when she said that.

In the months after Fry had woken up, Imam had told her that everything has its own time, and that one cannot rush the will of God. His words hadn't made her feel any better at the time, or since, and of course and she'd told him so point blank. Despite, his words and his smile, she could see the worry clouding his eyes, so she'd let the matter drop and gone back to worrying in silence.

"You're a dummy," Jack told the woman who was sound asleep before her, and didn't once feel like a dumbass for sounding like such a kid. "How could you forget someone as amazing as _him_?"

Fry didn't reply, not that Jack had really thought she would. Fry had been pretty exhausted lately, working as much as she could down at the docks. Like she'd said before, Jack was an expert when it came to running and knew it when she saw it. Fry was just the same as Riddick—running from the past. It was just that Fry didn't know what she was running from.

"Come on Fry, you can do it," she whispered into the silence, "Just _try_ and remember him." Again, she hadn't expected an answer, so when Fry opened her mouth, Jack nearly jumped out of her skin.

She breathed out one word and one word only:

_"Riddick."_

A huge smile broke across Jack face, one that crinkled her eyes and nearly split her dry lips. There was hope for her friend yet. The subconscious was an amazing thing, capable of all kinds of feats, even restoring what is thought to be lost.

Maybe, just maybe, Fry's subconscious would be able to fix the damage that had been done.

Maybe she would remember everyone she'd met on that accursed planet and everything that had transpired.

Maybe there was hope for the two of them, yet.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> A big thank you to those who have reviewed so far! And please, if you notice any errors, point out what they are so I can fix them.

My muse lives off of reviews. Help save a Muse, review today.

_**A/N:**__ That table thing was completely spontaneous. I just was so proud of it in a later chapter, that I couldn't resist givin' it some spotlight ;)_


	3. Chapter 3: Wild Goose Chase

**Author's Note: **First of all, I'd like to say that this is not my most favorite chapter, but it was the best I could do with what I had. I don't really like the mercs very much, I'd rather be writing in the POV of the other characters, _any_ of the other characters, but in the best interest of the story, they needed their screen time. *sigh* By the way, "UD" is Universal Denomination, got it from watching _Dark Fury_.

Secondly, I would just like to point out that, as of this posting, I have had **136 hits** for this story, and yet I only have **6 reviews**. I mean, I know I suck at math, but even I know that those numbers don't add up. **Please, please** **review**, even if all you say is "Good" or "So-so" or "It's crap, do it all over again," (please don't really say this last one, but you understand what I'm trying to say.)

**Summary:** AU: Riddick's dead, or at least that's what everyone else is supposed to think. However, it's a race against time, when some Mercs decide Fry's just the sort of bait they need to get Riddick out of hiding, the problem is; she doesn't remember him. R/F

**Disclaimer:** Anything that looks familiar, I don't own. Poor me…

* * *

><p>Chapter Three:<p>

Toombs was pissed. Here he was minding his own damned business trying to find a good offer on a bounty, and he just had to get stuck with this clown.

"Riddick's dead," he growled at the disembodied voice over the com speakers. The last fucker, who'd gone off to capture that merc-killing convict, had gotten himself stuck on some planet after the ship they were on crash-landed. Serves the damn bastard right for picking a Ghost Lane.

A shitting way to end things, though.

"We have evidence that suggests otherwise, Mr. Toombs." The voice seemed to take on an edge that made Toombs grin in satisfaction. "We are prepared to pay you 650,000 UD, which is more than generous, for bringing him to us." That got his attention. He could do a lot with that much money, pay off some debts, buy some girls; there was only one problem.

"Riddick's dead," he told the voice a second time, a bit louder than the first, but just as pissed off. "Look, as much as I would _love_ to go off after this bounty, dead is dead. So unless you got some big amazing Intel; me and mine will go find work elsewhere."

"We have the intelligence, but you'll excuse us for not wanting to share it with you until after you sign on." The voice had an air of smugness to it that Toombs didn't appreciate in the least. Well, unless it was him being smug.

Toombs thought things over for a second, as a smug grin found its way across his face.

"750."

"Excuse me?" The voice asked, with obvious outrage.

"You want me to go out, wastin' my resources and man-power, on some _chance_ that Riddick is still alive. Faith like that is gonna cost you, no matter what merc you talk to." Toombs leaned back in the pilot's chair, his arms crossed behind his head, legs kicked up on the dashboard. He had the cat by the tail, so to speak. There were a few moments of silence, but Toombs wasn't too worried, he had the sucker just where he wanted 'em.

"Fine," was their curt reply. "See that it gets done. We're sending you the information we have, now." The screen in front of him began uploading the information.

Huh, there were four survivors from the crash, looks like there was a possibility after all.

"Now that you have the information, we expect results soon." And with that, his current client terminated their communications.

Toombs hurriedly began busying himself in plotting the coordinates for Lupus V, it was about time he got himself a crew.

"Time to go huntin'."

* * *

><p>Lupus V was just as he remembered it: a shithole. A glorified shithole.<p>

But this planet was the best way to find a good crew fast. (And he used the term 'good' very loosely.) After a little good old-fashioned interviewing, Toombs managed to find himself a reasonably decent four-man crew, with all things considering. That's also including himself; the less men, the less ways the money's got to be split.

Recruiting hadn't gone exactly according to plan for Toombs, though. Obviously, the other no-account dicks on this planet didn't want to go off on a wild goose chase looking for a dead convict, but he'd managed to get a crew together, nonetheless. There was one person of interest in this new crew of his: a woman, but not because of the usual reasons.

Now normally he'd be thrilled, space can get kind of lonely and a guy's got needs and all that, but it was why she'd signed up. The other two boys had singed on only after he'd mentioned the payday; she'd signed on as soon as she'd heard they'd be going after Riddick.

Despite the business, revenge never was something that Toombs tried to get involved with, it leads to a lot of drama and people not thinking straight and doing all kinds of crazy shit. But he'd agreed to it anyways because she had one hell of a rack and looked like she could kick the other two guys' asses, which was good for going after a merc-killer like Riddick.

The other two seemed to know each other from some previous job together, something else to keep an eye on, more likely to try and start something if they think they got you out numbered. Just because they were his team, didn't mean he had to trust them.

They headed out of Lupus V, and the first thing this new crew of his wanted to know was everything about their bounty. There was hope for these clowns yet.

But then again, like hell, he'd just tell them everything.

"Bounty's for one 'Richard B. Riddick," Toombs told them, doing his impersonation of some professor with a stick-up-his-ass. "Who disappeared almost two years ago, under unusual circumstances on planet M6-117, better known to you ass-wipes as 'Hades.' A name that you probably remember from back when the New Olso Corporation served the locals there, a nice buffet of human flesh trying to recover their ship."

"We know that already," the chick interrupted him. _Jace,_ he remembered her name with a sneer.

"Well, fuckers," he continued with a smile on his face, "our sponsors think that Mr. Richard B. is still alive n' kickin', and gave us a whole bunch of Intel that they think will prove 'em right. All we gotta do is follow it to the biggest payday of our lives." He leaned back in the pilot's chair, with his arms crossed behind his head.

Piece o' cake.

* * *

><p>The first step on this wild goose chase was the flying wreck known as the<em> Titan<em>, which was much harder to find than he'd first thought.

Apparently the ship liked to travel the lesser known Ghost Lanes of the Universe, and didn't let a lot of people know where they were at any given moment. When they'd finally found the piece of shit, docked at a satellite to refuel and restock, they were surprised to learn a few things.

"There were three of 'em," the Captain of the Titan told them, "No wait-now that I think about it there were four. The fourth one was this woman, who had her back ripped to pieces and was stabbed in the back. Heh, literally. She stayed in a coma the entire time she was on board, tiny thing too." He was a middle-aged who'd spent more than two-thirds of his life on his ship, and while that was something that Toombs could appreciate, the man just seemed to be another one of those things that pissed him off.

_Stabbed in the back, that definitely sounded like Riddick's M.O._

Thankfully Toombs wasn't the one conversing with the _esteemed_ captain; he never could do that 'people-person' bullshit, even when the situation called for it. It was one of the other two guys talking, _Conner_, trying to get as much information out of these lowlifes as possible.

"The other three were an old Muslim, a teenage boy, and a big bounty hunter." _Bounty hunter?_

"What'd that bounty hunter look like," Toombs asked from across the room. The captain looked puzzled for a second, no doubt wondering why the hell that was important. The other three members of his crew seemed to have a similar reaction as the captain.

"Uh, I dunno, the guy was big, real fit, like a guy who's been brawling his whole life." The captain was scratching the back of his head, obviously trying to remember something else, but considering that just a minute ago, he couldn't even remember how many survivors there were, his particular input was looking less and less reliable.

"Um," one of the scrawny guys moping the unloading dock behind them, interrupted, "he had a shaved head and wore goggles the whole time too, right Captain?"

"Yeah, that's right, he did, wore those things the whole damn time too, even into cryo-sleep." The dimwitted captain agreed, latching on to what the kid said.

_Riddick_, a smug grin spread across Toombs face, _so you are alive after all_.

"Where were they headed?" Jace practically shouted at the captain and his helpful crew member.

"Uh," the captain began again, looking back to mop-boy for help.

"New Mecca," the kid told the group of mercs. "Like the Captain said, the woman was pretty bad off. The big guy, Johns," Toombs noticed that Jace flinched as soon as the kid said that name; "he rarely left that woman's side. It was only after the Holy Man told him that it was okay, that Johns let her go, and even then he had this look, like he was just waiting for you to try something so that he could kick your ass."

"Real animal-like, too." The Captain agreed.

"What was the woman's name?" Connor asked the kid.

"Her name was-"

"Oh, her name was Carolyn Fry," the Captain said in a booming voice, drowning out whatever the kid had been about to say. It was plain to see that the old man was trying to salvage any credibility that he'd lost when he'd had to ask the kid for help remembering.

Toombs, though, remembered that name from the file. Carolyn Fry had been the docking pilot of the _Hunter_-whatever, that crash-landed on that God-forsaken rock.

_Interesting._

"Was she his wife or something?" Weiss, the other member of the crew, asked.

"I don't think so," the kid answered, casting surreptitious glances back at his captain, not sure if he should continue to answer after his booming outburst. "They all seemed to have a certain amount of protectiveness for her. I think they'd said that she was the reason that they were alive in the first place."

It was obvious that the Muslim, kid, and pilot had lied about Riddick; he was still alive. Although Toombs did have to admit that it was pretty impressive that the convict had managed to stay off of the radar for as long as he has.

Well, that is, up until now.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's<strong> **Note: **I really liked Toombs, he was the only new character introduced (besides Ziza) that I actually liked in _'The Chronicles of Riddick' _and that includes their messed up version of Jack.

Remember, **reviews** are love. Love me.


	4. Chapter 4: Night Terrors

**Author's Note: **I would just like to say, Wow! Thank you all who have reviewed so far! And as a thank you, here's an early update for you. I made this one a little longer than usual, to make up for the shortness of the last chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

**Summary:** AU: Riddick's dead, or at least that's what everyone else is supposed to think. However, it's a race against time when some Mercs decide Fry's just the sort of bait they need to get Riddick out of hiding, the problem is; she doesn't remember him. R/F

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would love to say _yes,_ *sigh* the answer is still no, because Santa did not give me the rights to anything Riddick-related...but there's always next year.

**_Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays, Everyone!_**

* * *

><p>Chapter Four:<p>

According to the medical files on board the _Titan_, "Captain" Carolyn Fry had been attacked while on the planet. Amongst the plethora of superficial wounds scattered across her body, Carolyn had four large diagonal cuts going from her left shoulder to her right hip and a vicious stab wound to the left of her spine.

From the eye-witness accounts of the crew, the other three survivors were quite protective of their captain, especially the big one. Going by the name 'Johns,' this was an individual who keep mostly to the shadows and tried to avoid standing out. Obviously he failed. The crew said that he had seemed animalistic in his movements and the way that he acted around the others.

Carolyn Fry the most likely person to know where Riddick is hiding.

Of course the crew had told him about her coma and everything, so if worst-case scenario was that she was still in a coma; he could still use her as bait.

Toombs couldn't resist the smirk that made its way across his face, why would he want to? Everything was going together perfectly, and he barely had to lift a finger.

The crew had been so gracious to inform them, along with everything else, the exact port that they had left the four survivors in New Mecca. It was easy to assume that Riddick had already gotten his ass off that planet the first chance he got, but what about the others?

There were two ways, Toombs figured, that things could've gone down after they'd been dropped off in New Mecca:

A) The other survivors were still living in New Mecca, going about their lives as if nothing had happened on that planet and they'd never even met a Richard B. Riddick, or B) Riddick had ghosted their asses as soon as they made port, which seemed to be the less likely of the scenarios only because they had even made it off that shitty hell hole. But then again, Riddick was the sort of sorry shit that would do something like that after he'd saved them.

They'd left the bowels of the _Titan_, as soon as they'd gotten the information and hightailed their asses to New Mecca. It turned out that they didn't' really have to go that far to find out their missing information.

There were very few ports in New Mecca, and apparently, their walking bait worked for the same port shipping company that owned the port they'd arrived through. The port was owned and operated by a certain _gentleman_ who dealt a good portion of his time in the less reputable businesses, such as selling out your employees for a price.

From him, we found out that Miss Carolyn was currently off planet making a short-distance delivery and was scheduled to be back the next day. They could wait that long.

They went ahead and scouted out her place, but didn't stake out inside. If there was one thing he knew, it was that after a few too many close calls, you get to be real sensitive to your surroundings, and they wanted her as unprepared as they could get.

It wouldn't be long now.

They'd gone back to the cutter and, while the other three were gone, contacted his employers to tell them how things were going. It had been part of the deal anyways, for the interest of their money after all. They dicks planned it so that if he didn't check in with them, they could either assume he was dead and go on to the next merc or assume he had run off with Riddick, to cash him in with some other person willing to pay, and have them put a bounty on his head.

Given the choices, he figured he'd stick with checking in every now and again.

"I take it you have made some progress?" The voice asked, all pristine and shit.

"Of course, who the fuck do you think I am?" He replied in the sickest sweet voice he could muster.

"Well?" It intoned, obviously annoyed.

"We got a lead with one of the other survivors, who will know where to find Riddick," he didn't feel like telling his 'boss' about any of his other contingency plans, if that plan were to fail, so he didn't. Fuck 'em.

"You were to use our information to find Riddick, Mr. Toombs, there was more than enough to find him-"

"Horse shit, you gave me the basics and with those I figured out my own way of catching this son of a bitch."

"Mr. Toombs-"

"We're gonna be doin' things my way," and before the voice could say anything more, he turned the communications off with a kick of his boot.

* * *

><p>Carolyn was not a happy pilot, right about now. She'd been gone for almost a month, delivering a package off-world. Thankfully these particular deliveries were few and far between, but when they did happen, they always left her in a pissed off mood.<p>

Jack was still at Imam's, thankfully he and his wife hadn't minded watching out for the girl, while Carolyn had been away. Carolyn was supposed to go get her as soon as she got back (Jack's orders of course,) but it was late and she was so tired. Just because it was called 'cryo-sleep' didn't mean you actually got any rest.

She climbed out of her jumpsuit and headed for the bathroom for a quick shower. The shower was really just so that she could feel like she was clean, after all, she had been unconscious during most of the flight and didn't really _need_ one. She stayed in there for a while; nonetheless, with the water on as hot as she could stand, which is to say, on full blast. She ran her fingers, idly through her blonde hair, as she let it slip through her fingers.

Even though she was no longer required to keep it cut short, Carolyn still maintain the short style, to the point that Jack's hair was longer than hers now. That girl's hair grew faster than she thought possible, for hair to grow.

After the water had begun to run cold, she got out and pulled on the loose fitting, almost bronze-colored pajamas, that Jack had bought her for her birthday. Jack had insisted on them because, apparently, they were the latest styles.

Whatever made the girl happy.

Carolyn headed towards the living room, like she did almost every night, with a cup of warm tea between her hands. From the balcony, she could see where some dark storm clouds were beginning to form, blotting out the stars. She knew from the dull ache of her back that it wasn't going to be just any kind of gentle rain, but a heavy downpour of a Thunderstorm.

Great, on her day off too.

Everytime a package needs to be delivered off planet, that delivery-person usually gets the next day off, so at least Carolyn didn't have to worry about doing any of that tedious paperwork, but still, talk about raining on your parade.

_Oh well_, she thought. She didn't know how it happened, but she eventually found her way to the couch, and was out cold before her tea even had a chance to cool.

...

_Her body moved of its own accord, her mind just seemed to be along for the ride, as she watched everything unfold before her. She'd left them at the skiff, in the safety of the light, but she was running away from them, into the darkness with all of its teeth and monsters, to find a specific monster who needed her help. _

_"Riddick?" Was that its name? She didn't know, but she had to find it, this monster that made its home in the darkness. Pale blue light washed over every surface around her. The light was safety; she had to bring this safety to her monster._

_"Arghh!" Was that him? The rain was pouring down so hard that it made it difficult for her to see ahead of her, let alone find this 'Riddick' in the darkness._

_"Riddick?" Again, she could hear him cry out in pain. "Riddick!" She felt that all-too familiar panic begin to rise in her again, like the waves in the ocean, back on Earth. She was turning around in circles, trying to find his familiar shape in the shadows lurking all around her. _

_Something lunges out of the darkness towards her, crashing into metal barrels and knocking them over, the sound echoing into the blackness all around. A gasp, but not from her._

_He is covered in blood, which the rain only seems to make more gruesome._ The creatures that thrive in the darkness, are attracted to the blood, _she remembers. Her mind says to stay away from him, the creatures are attracted to the blood! But her body doesn't listen as she runs towards him, trying to help support him so that they can get back to the safety of the light._

_The skiff waiting to take them away from this place of darkness and death._

_He is breathing raggedly and all she can think about is that he will probably not survive any longer in this state, if they do not _hurry.

_"Okay hold onto me. Hold onto me. We're gonna get out of here. I got you. Come on." She whispers to him, like a mantra. He only has to get to his feet and then they are as good as safe, but she cannot get a good hold on him and his feet will not hold him, so he falls swiftly to the ground._

_"Come on, Riddick! Get up!" He is on his stomach and she grabs his arm trying to pull him up. She shouts at him, "Get up!" and he manages to listen to her, little by little getting to his feet as she continues to pull him. "Get up!" she says again, when he begins to slip, but he stays upright and she loops an arm under his, so that she shares his weight, as he gets to his feet. All the while, keeping the pale blue light above them in a halo of protection. _

_She pulls at him and maneuvers him so that his arm is over her shoulder, but he begins to lean forward again, threatening to fall. She pulls him as close to her as she can, until her mouth is near his ear, as he continues to sag._

_"I said I'd die for them, not you. Let's move. Come on." She is trying to motivate him, to get him moving. He is _not_ allowed to die. It is such a strong conviction that she knows she has to do all in her power to ensure that it happens._

_She throws the light in front of them, to guide her steps as they continue to stagger back towards the safety of the skiff. He is beginning to slip more and more, and she knows that it is only a matter of time. A creature screams in the darkness, and suddenly she gasps._

_His arms are still around her, trying to keep his balance, but she knows that he knows. She feels the blood dripping down her back falling to the ground like red rain drops._

_All she can do is stare at him, at the irony. She had told him that she would not die for him, but did anyway. She had gone out into the darkness to save him from death at the claws of these creatures, and was killed by them, instead. _

_It seemed like forever that she stood there, rain falling on her face, as the blood fell to the ground. Riddick's face was...conflicted. Odd, that didn't seem to fit with her idea of this monster, he was never unsure. She tried to smile at him, to make that expression on his face disappear. Quickly his unsure expression disappears and she is happy, if only for a moment, because his expression is replaced with surprise and panic, which fit even less than uncertainty. _

_Suddenly the thing jabbed into her flesh pulls back and she is flying back towards the creature that will kill her, like it has done to so many others since the came to this monstrous underworld. The rain pelts at her skin, icy cold and sharp, but the sting slowly begins to disappear. All she sees as the world turns black, is the hand wrapped around hers, not willing to let go._

_..._

Carolyn's eyes snapped open. Her dreams had been like that lately, as if she were replaying a specific event, instead of simply dreaming. But, it was always whenever she would try to concentrate on a specific image from her "dreams," that whatever it was would disappear back into her, ever constant, mind-fog.

Sighing, she hauled herself up into a sitting position. She'd fallen asleep on the couch again, she noted with more than slight irritation. That would explain the crick in her neck. She was in the middle of rolling her neck from side to side, to try and help in lessening the pain, when she noticed it.

A very _noticeable_ 'it' and yet it had taken her this long to fully realize. Damn first she thought it was just that leftover feeling from one of her nightmarish dreams, but it was far too real to be a figment and failed to dissipate upon awakening.

Someone else was in the room with her and whoever it was, was no friend of hers.

Everything happened all at once. Someone lunged at her from her right, tackling her to the ground, as she got to her feet. She jabbed a elbow straight behind her, feeling as well as hearing, a sickening crack as the blow made contact with her attacker's nose. Before she could do anything about this little victory, however, she had a sudden fist hit her square in the jaw.

She fell onto the coffee table, which surprisingly managed to stay in one piece during its sudden tumbling to the ground. She heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering, before another body was suddenly on top her, trying to restrain her. She struggled against her attacker, but only managed to get some shattered pieces of glass, imbedded into her palm.

The one whose nose she'd broken appeared to her left with a soaked cloth in his hand.

_Oh, shit._

She knew that bitter mind-numbing smell. A third person came around to her and held her head still, while broken-nose pressed the cloth to her face. Her vision began to swim, and everything sounded as if it was traveling through a long hallway to get to her. She felt herself continue to struggle against her attackers, so similar to how her dream-self had been, until the drug finally won out and darkness enveloped her.

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><p>Drugging that bitch had been more troublesome than he'd thought it would. He was starting to have doubts about the efficiency of this crew of his. They planned to take the bait back to the cutter. Even if she somehow managed to wake up out of her drug-induced stupor, she wouldn't be able to do shit about it out in space.<p>

Jace was setting Weiss's nose back into place with a resounding crack. The dumb-fuck should've known better, Toombs thought.

"Son of a Bitch!" He shouted, pulling away from Jace. "I can't believe that _bitch_ broke my nose!" He sent an especially scathing look towards the woman in question, that Connor was currently hoisting over his shoulder in a fireman's hold.

"We should probably be getting the hell out of here, in case anyone heard us," Connor sent his own dirty look, back in Weiss's direction. "You just had to tackle her, didn't you Weiss?"

"Fuck you!" Weiss spat back.

"Will you two girls shut the fuck up, already?" Toombs asked the two, who immediately shut themselves up. The place seemed pretty decent, for someone on a deliverer's paycheck, too bad she'll probably never see it again.

Toombs pulled a vidscreen from his pocket and pulled one of the small side-tables, away from the couch, and out into the open floor. He set the vidscreen down onto the table, and stabbed a sick-looking blade down into the wood of the table, that way there'd be no way that they missed it. He figured it would be only a couple of days before they noticed the "dear captain's" absence and came to check on her.

On the vidscreen he'd left specific instructions, for the other two survivors, to give to Riddick. If they didn't already know where he was, then they would just have to go out and find him. Either way, all Toombs had to do was sit back and wait.

It really did seem that he'd been a little overly-cautious in recruiting a four-man team, so far it's been only a three-man job and from the way things are looking it's barely that.

The blade, however, was just something that he'd thrown in to spice up the scenery a little, to make sure they understood that little Miss Carolyn wasn't gonna be on no picnic.

"Boss?" Connor called from the doorway, the rest of the crew in tow.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on," he muttered to them as they left the house, closing the door behind him. He walked away from Carolyn's flat with a smile on his face. The biggest payday of his career and he didn't have to do shit.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Your feedback tells me that I am doing good...or bad, whichever.


	5. Chapter 5: On The Road Again

**Author's Note: **Oopsies! I completely forgot about writing this chapter! Shocker I know, but I didn't really have this chapter planned out like the other ones were, and then there was the stress of the holidays, so everything's been hectic. And speaking of which, I hope that everyone's holidays were wonderful! This chapter, for some reason, also took me much longer to write than it normally would, so sorry about that as well. So, without further ado, on to the chapter!

Oh, and **Happy New Years Everyone!**

**Summary:** AU: Riddick's dead, or at least that's what everyone else is supposed to think. However, it's a race against time when some Mercs decide Fry's just the sort of bait they need to get Riddick out of hiding, the problem is; she doesn't remember him. R/F

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything Riddick-related, that right belongs to Universal Studios and the people on their payroll, the lucky bastards…

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><p>Chapter Five:<p>

"Fry, you here?" Jack was still a little miffed. Fry was supposed to have been back on planet earlier today, but she hadn't come to Imam's to get her like she always did. She set her bag down as soon as she stepped into the flat, and turned around to flip on the light switch, closing the door behind her as she went.

"Fry, did you fall asleep agai-?" Jack paused mid-word the moment her eyes finally fell on a knife imbedded into the wood of the small side table. It was a nasty-looking piece of work too, and Jack felt a cold shiver run down her spine at the very sight of it.

Quickly Jack ran to where Fry's bedroom was, with any luck, the blade was just something Fry had brought home with her. But when she saw that the room was empty, and noticed that all of her things that she'd taken with her off world were lying right there, the panic she felt suddenly kicked up a notch.

"Damn it!" She shouted as she headed back into their living room. The couch looked like it always did when Fry fell asleep there, but it wasn't the couch's state that she noticed first. The table, that Fry had been so adamant about having, was smashed. It looked as if someone had thrown something into it. Upon further investigation, Jack saw Fry's favorite mug, shattered into little pieces and covered in blood.

"_Shit_," she heard herself sob. _Where was Fry? Why would anyone want to take her?_ Maybe she was just overreacting; it could just as easily be the blood of her attacker. This was Fry she was talking about, after all, the woman who got them off of that planet, their captain. Fry was probably on her way to Imam's right now, to come get her.

Going on auto-pilot, Jack headed towards the door, grabbing her bag as she went, but paused for a moment to cast a mistrustful glance towards the origin of her panic. And that was when she saw it; a vidscreen. Fry must've left it for her, in case she'd gotten home before Fry. After all, Fry was meticulous like that sometimes. Jack had had many a vidscreen left for her after she'd gotten home from school, or from Imam's, whenever Fry's plans suddenly changed and couldn't tell Jack in person.

With a deep calming breath, Jack set her bag back down at the entry, and headed towards the out-of-place side table. She picked up the vidscreen and pressed the 'play' icon. Any hope that she'd had, that Fry was safe and sound, was dashed to pieces in that moment, as the images on the screen continued to flash in front of her.

_Oh Riddick, why did you have to leave us?_ Jack asked the same question that she always seemed to find herself asking, and like always, knew she would never get the answer to.

As soon as the message finished playing, Jack shoved the vidscreen into her bag and ran out the door. She slammed the door shut behind her, making sure that it was locked, and headed back in the direction of Imam's place. If anyone knew what to do in a situation like this, it was him.

The familiar streets of their district went by in a flash. She was running as fast as she could, pushing herself more and more with each step. Normally, the trip to Imam's house took at the very least 10 minutes.

Jack was there in four.

She was panting ragged breaths when she finally arrived at the doorstep, of the very place that she had just left. She threw her hand against the wood of Imam's door, banging as hard as she could. She would've shouted as well, but she could barely find the air to breath, let alone speak.

She continued to beat against the door, until she heard the sound of feet shuffling across the floor, towards the door. Lajjun pulled open the door looking at her with wide startled eyes.

"Jack, child, what is the matter?" Jack still didn't have the breath to reply, and simply maneuvered herself into the house, closing the door after her. Taking deep breaths, she asked Lajjun between gasps where Imam was. His wife told her that Imam was up in his study, preparing for tomorrow's lessons. Jack gave the woman her thanks, before she bounded up the stairs, two at a time, towards the older man's study.

Imam was the picture of a professor at work, all around him were papers and text books opened and scattered all over his desk. When Jack came in to the study, she quickly slammed the door shut behind her.

"Imam," she pleaded as the door shut. Her hair was all over the place and she briefly missed the shorter hair of two years ago.

At her plea, Imam turned towards her, a startled and worried expression twisting his normally calm features. She didn't take long to explain to him what happened, when she walked into her home, making sure to explain in detail the state of their flat. Somehow Jack had managed to tell him everything in what felt like one breath, finally ending her summary of the events that transpired with the revelation of the vidscreen and the blade that stood watch over it like a menacing gargoyle.

At the mention of the vidscreen, Jack reached into her bag and pulled the damn thing out. She handed the bit of technology to Imam, and once he had it in his hand, released it as if it was on fire. Imam turned the little piece of equipment over in his hands, and Jack held her breath as she watched him press 'play.'

_..._

_'Hello fucks,' the message began with a nasally voice. 'Hope ya'll aren't too worried about your dear captain,' he was on what appeared to be in a poorly taken care of cutter, judging by the screens behind him. 'Naw, scratch that, I hope you're shittin' yourselves.' He grinned one of the most malicious grins that Jack had ever seen in her entire life._

_'Now, you are probably askin' yourselves questions, like 'Where's Carolyn?' and 'Who is this devilishly good- lookin' bastard?' Well, the simple answer to that is,' he paused and held up his hand so that it was in the screen with him, counting off the points with his fingers, "1) She's with us, and 2) I'm the guy who gonna bring in Riddick.'_

_Jack watched as Imam flinched at Riddick's name, just as she had in their apartment. She could practically see the questions flit across his face, but she kept quiet as the man on the vidscreen continued._

_'Yeah, you heard me right: Riddick. You thought you'd be able to hide him, but you shitheads were lazy.' He gave the screen another haughty sneer before he continued._

_'Dear little Miss Carolyn Fry, has so graciously volunteered to act as bait for us, that is either Riddick comes to us, or Carolyn wishes that she really had died on that planet with the rest of 'em. And just in case it escaped you dumbasses, you will be the ones to give this little message to Riddick for us, we'll be waiting.' _

_..._

With that, the screen shifted to a bunch of gibberish, which Jack could only assume were the coordinates to whatever shithole the merc wanted them to bring Riddick.

Throughout the recorded message, Jack had watched as Imam's confused expression had become grimmer with each passing moment. At its conclusion, Imam wearily laid the vidscreen down on his desk, heedless to the papers that fell to the ground because of his actions.

"Allah, help us," he said with as much desperation as Jack felt. And with those words, it was if something solid slammed into the pit of her stomach.

_"Well?" _She all but shouted at him, "What do we do now?" They needed to form a plan and hurry to rescue Fry. She was out there, trapped with those mercs. Just thinking about them made her stomach turn; she couldn't imagine how Fry was faring, up close and personal with the lowlifes.

"Imam," she pleaded, when he didn't acknowledge her. "How do we find Riddick?" Jack asked the question that had been swirling around in her head since she had left the flat. "He could be anywhere by now."

When he finally looked up at her, it was with hardened eyes. Eyes not unlike the ones that he'd had on that dark planet.

"I must hurry," he began, quickly standing from his chair and grabbing the vidscreen as he headed for the door. "Lajjun!" He called, and his wife almost instantly appeared by his side.

"What is it?" She asked with panic growing in her eyes at her husband's agitated state. Imam quickly took his wife by the shoulders and stared into her eyes, as if the eye contact would press upon her the importance of what he was about to say.

"My dear, I must go to find a friend of mine. He is lost, but I know where he might still be." That was sure news to Jack; she thought that just figuring out where Riddick _might've_ gone would take weeks at the very least.

"It should not take very long, but I must leave now, time is of the essence in this matter," Imam seemed to add as he saw the question forming on his wife's face. She just looked at him for a few heartbeats more, as if in silent communication with her husband, before bowing her head and pulling her husband into her arms.

"Please be safe, my love," she told him. The two of them stood there embracing each other before Imam broke away, hurrying into his daughter's room.

"I'm coming with you," Jack told him before he crossed the threshold, and he slowly turned his attention towards her. "I may only be fourteen, but I've been through hell, the same as you Imam. I can't just sit here and wait, we're going to find him together." Imam just stood there looking at her, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Jack was already coming up with more reasons why she should come with.

"If there is anything that you need from your home, Jack, I suggest that now is the time to retrieve it. Meet me at the hanger, we leave tonight." With that, he turned back to his daughter's room to say his goodbyes.

To say she was shocked, would be the understatement of the millennium, but Jack knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Quickly, she turned on her heel and headed towards the front door, but not before Lajjun grabbed her and pulled her into a hug of her own.

"Be safe child, and be careful," Lajjun said squeezing just a bit tighter. Jack told her that she would, all the while wondering if she would ever be hugged like that by Fry again. She shook her head to clear it of anymore thoughts along those lines, as she ran through the district towards her home (thankfully at a more conventional pace).

As she entered the flat, she ran straight to her room and dumped everything in her school bag out onto her bed, repacking it with a few clothes and anything that she felt she might need in their search for Riddick. She didn't know the exact reason why, but she snagged the picture that they'd taken of all of them together at her birthday a year ago. Lajjun had still been pregnant back then, but they were all smiling, even Fry, who always seemed just a little harder to pull a smile out of.

Jack shook her head again, now was not the time to be going off to La-La Land. Now was the time to focus. She finished packing her bag, grabbing that malicious blade that the mercs had left with her after they had taken her captain. Riddick might even know who the merc is, just by looking at the knife.

_Riddick._

After two years she would be able to see him again, just the thought of that, despite the circumstances, made a smile spread across her face.

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><p>The hanger that Imam had referred to was none other than the very same port that they had arrived through.<p>

The irony was not lost on her.

Imam showed up only a little while after she had, a small bag thrown over his left shoulder. He had several papers in his hands, as he spoke to several different hanger personnel. Jack wasn't quite sure what was going on, but Imam seemed eerily clam, so she let the holy man work and didn't bombard him with questions.

For instance, 'Where were they going?' or, the big one in her book, 'How did he know where Riddick was, while she was left in the dark?'

Finally Imam seemed to find the person he was looking for, who promptly showed him to a series of small ship, nothing really grandiose, but decent nonetheless. Imam paid the man, before quickly ushering Jack to the ship.

"Who's gonna pilot?" She asked, feeling a slight pain in her chest at a very similar memory from the time they were on _M6-117_. They'd been without a pilot then too, after Fry had gone running off into the rain to find Riddick. This time, though, _they_ were the ones going off to find him.

"I will," Imam told her. At the look, he no doubt saw on her face, he quickly added, "Since we were stranded, I have learned how to pilot, in case such a need should ever arise again." Jack felt a smile break out across her face, it was really true, they were going to find Riddick, and save Fry.

Those mercs wouldn't know what hit them.

It didn't take long before they were out of _New Mecca_ and heading towards the place that Riddick had told Imam he would be: _Aquila Prime._ The place was, apparently know for its rather disreputable gambling and whoring. The place was the brothel capital of the system, so it was no doubt that Riddick would be there. But that still left one question unresolved...

"When did Riddick tell you where he was going to be there hiding?" They were getting everything set up, before they went into cryo-sleep. It wouldn't be for very long, but it was still something that Jack was all too happy to put off until the last minute.

"It was while you were asleep, before the _Titan_ came to our rescue. It had mostly been silence between us," he began, his eyes growing distant as his mind went back to that moment from two years ago. "When Riddick suddenly told me about some of the places that he had been to in the past, while on the run. He had told me that, after everything was said and done, that he would most likely 'be laying low' on _Aquila Prime_, under the name William Johns." Jack felt a shiver run up her spine at the mention of that name.

It didn't matter that she and Imam had told Fry that the only other survivor of the crash had been named 'Johns,' every time she heard that name the only person that came to mind was that bastard of a merc, who was willing to cut her up and use her for bait.

It was not long after that, that they went into cryo-sleep. And it was not much longer after _that_, that the two of them found themselves at one of _Aquila Prime's_ ports. The only problem now was finding out where the hell Riddick was on this rock.

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><p><strong>AN:** The reviews tell me that I'm doing a good job, and help to encourage me to get my butt to a computer and type. **:)**


	6. Not an Update: Author's Note

_**A/N: **__Things have been pretty hectic lately and I am so sorry that I have not updated this story in nearly 2 years. Wow, so very sorry about that. I just wanted to say thank you for all the wonderful reviews and favorites for **Faceless.** I've tried to get back into the writing spirit for this story and decided to fix up some parts in the other chapters that I didn't like and expand on some scenes, adding a couple more along the way. I have no beta for this story, so if there's a part that just doesn't seem to make sense that's all on me and I would very much appreciate an IM or something that points out my mistake so that I can fix it. Again, thank you guys so much, and I am so glad ya'll like the story so far. To tell you the truth, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I started this fic (as evidence by my lack of update). I hope this explanation suffices for now.  
><em>

_The first re-edited chapter should be up within the month and after I have uploaded the other four chapters, chapter six will soon follow and so on and so forth. Damn, that was a little pretentious sounding, sorry about that..._

_Anyhoo, back to the ol' word factory!_


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